Curse of the Cucumber

The central office in Kathmandu formed a team to conduct a survey of the Humla-Mugu road, which would connect Humla for the first time with the rest of the world. I was one of the members, and I was exhilarated because this time around, we had to stay in really rural places without shelter (probably), good food, internet and even a phone connection. I had never imagined that I would be presented with such an opportunity. It was a free ticket for a whole new experience, and a rare one at that.

We reached Gamgadi, the headquarters of Mugu on 10^th September (2015) and so began our 35 day long trip to one the most rural and challenging places I have ever been to (and probably will ever be) in my life.

Thirty five days in an unknown land with unknown traditions and unknown people is a recipe for bizarre and extraordinary stories, and I could even write a book about it, but a blog will do for now. So, I’ve decided to share some insane events that occurred during my time there in separate posts.

I call this story: Curse of the cucumber

Luma Village, where the incident happened (photo: Vivek Singh)

Luma Village: It happened on the very first day of work. My friend and I were supervising survey work in a cultivated field when a local helper (we had employed eighteen locals to help us with the survey and carry our luggage) came to us with two cucumbers. “Kakro Khane ho sir? (do you want to have some cucumbers?)” he said.

The sweltering heat of the Mugu sun owed to the craving for a cool snack and there was no way we’d say no to cucumber. We took them without hesitation, sent him back to work, and sat down in the cool shade of a nearby tree. My friend always carried a knife with him in the forests for protection (against “wild” animals, he says) but throughout our time in Mugu, it served a very menial purpose (cutting apples and cucumbers) than what it was actually meant for (except in one occasion, the knife claimed the life of a sheep under very unusual circumstances, but that’s a different story altogether!). This was the inauguration. The outer layer of the cucumbers were a bit dusty, so we decided to cut them longitudinally, eat the inner soft part and throw the outer layer.

What we didn’t know was that Hasta, the helper, had stolen the cucumbers from a field nearby, and apparently, some village people had seen him do that.

We returned back to work, and after a few minutes, we got called in through the walkie-talkie by Tika sir, our team leader. “Hello!! Team!! Over??”

I responded and then, he informed that about thirty people from the village barged into the work site and forced them to halt work. We were surprised by the news because just a few hours earlier, the locals were very welcoming and it seemed then that they didn’t have any problem with the survey. This is the literal translation of what our team leader said when asked why: “They say that people from our team stole some cucumbers from their field and ate them. I assured them that we had nothing to do with it. But they insist that we did. Some say they even saw a few of us munching down on them near the tree at zero point.”

Apparently, the whole village were agitated because a team of outsiders came barging in on their field and stole their cucumbers. The team leader was backing up the whole team because he was certain that nobody from the team could have ever done that. My friend and I looked at each other. I found the situation funny and scary at the same time. We decided to keep shut until the situation calmed down. We resumed with our work because Tika sir said he would handle the situation by himself. A few minutes later, we heard him on the Walkie-talkie again, and this time, he seeped panicky. “The locals say they found outer layers of cucumber dumped near the tree I was talking about earlier. Looks like somebody really did eat them. I’m having a hard time dealing with the folks out here. I’m trying my best to control the situation. Over!” We could even hear angry shouts and curses from locals over the talkie.

Agitated locals

I talked to my friend and we thought about going there to say we had eaten them, and then pay for them. We were scared out of our wits, and were unsure if it would be the right thing to do. We chickened out and decided to wait for Tika sir. Miraculously, Tika sir really did work his magic and calmed the people down. By the time we finished our work and returned to the village, Tika sir was sipping tea with the villagers, laughing and talking and having a good time. Later, we found out that he had decided to employ a few locals from the village as compensation for damaging part of their cultivated land in the survey (and eating a few cucumbers while we were at it). In the end, nobody had an idea that it was us who had eaten them, and Hasta who had stolen them FOR us. Hasta learned a lesson of not stealing anybody’s cucumber (especially when working as a representative of an organization).

The view from a Kodo bari atop Luma

So, all this over two cucumbers? I don’t know about my friend, but I had a moment of enlightenment then and there. Salad would always be taken for granted by me in Kathmandu. Cucumber was just another item that would be half eaten and thrown away in restaurants. I was born and raised in Kathmandu, and I was never in my life exposed to hardship, and this was a completely different experience. The phrase “Fighting for food” had a very literal sense here. I had seen poverty first hand, but never really realized it. This was my moment of realization, and in some way, I believe this experience has made me closer to the people there. Come to think of it now, I am kind of glad that Hasta stole those cucumbers because it taught me two valuable lessons: Things we take for granted might mean the world to others, and never to mess with people from Luma.